


every colour illuminates

by timelxdy



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/F, thasmin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-12
Updated: 2018-12-12
Packaged: 2019-09-17 03:20:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16966716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/timelxdy/pseuds/timelxdy
Summary: It all starts with a faint, easy-to-ignore fizzle in the synapses of her brain, but it spreads, slowly and unwittingly, until there’s a dull ache at her temple; she puts it down to the stress of the day’s events, nothing more, nothing less.





	every colour illuminates

**Author's Note:**

  * For [clickofthecollar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/clickofthecollar/gifts).



It all starts with a faint, easy-to-ignore fizzle in the synapses of her brain, but it spreads, slowly and unwittingly, until there’s a dull ache at her temple; she puts it down to the stress of the day’s events, nothing more, nothing less.   

It’s almost as if she’s forgotten its origin already.   

There’s a sense of relief in the air as Andino and Delph discuss their newly found freedom, setting their hopes on new worlds and civilisations in the same way Yaz, Graham and Ryan had months ago. Yasmin is familiar with the optimism and anticipation in their eyes; it’s the same look which greets her every time she wakes up on the TARDIS and catches her reflection in the mirror.   

She’s truly happy for them, offering up a warm, approving smile in return for their own.   

That’s when her thoughts seem to splinter slightly, tiny twinges in the space behind her eyes and the dull ache forming into a slow pound. She can feel herself getting dizzy, so she leans subtly against the rusted pillar at her side, watching on as the Doctor chatters and rambles away to their new acquaintances.  

At times like this, she simply wishes the Doctor didn’t talk so much. She’s so animated and bubbly and verging on hyperactive that Yasmin’s unsteadiness increases in her attempts to keep up.   

It's when her gaze lifts to her face that the penny drops. Fingertips brush against her temple to search for the same device she can spot settled against the Doctor’s hairline. There’s nothing there to find, solely a gradually worsening migraine.   

The Doctor is  _still_ talking and Yaz is feeling more light-headed with every passing minute, her grip on the worn metal her only hold on the haze settling over her thoughts. She blinks against the slow onslaught, opening her mouth to talk but the words get lost on the journey to her lips.   

Inwardly, she’s starting to panic, glancing around pleadingly in an attempt to capture someone’s attention. She closes her eyes when it starts hurting too much to keep them open, just long enough to catch her breath. There are a million questions and loose ends flooding her mind simultaneously, and she braces herself with a faint exhale. What's she doing here again? Who are those people? Where are they? Why can't she keep herself upright? Why does - oh  _man_  - why does her head hurt so much?  

"C'mon, fam." She hears the Doctor chirp happily as she turns, tucking her hands into her pockets.   

"I thought we weren't doing 'fam'." Ryan counters, grimacing at the slang. His eyes are smiling, however, pupils dancing with amusement.   

Yasmin manages a soft, defeated "I like it." before it's too much to bear any longer. She ducks her head to clutch loosely at her temples, the action dislodging her balance and sending her stumbling forwards. She braces herself for impact in time for two strong arms to catch her form.  

" _Whoa._ Yaz? Yaz, are you alright?" When Yaz blinks up at the once familiar form, all recognition has been lost. The blonde freezes, supporting her with an arm around her waist while the other tips her chin up.  

"Yaz? Answer me." 

There's a five second pause, which feels like hours. 

"Who's Yaz?" 

Gentle but weathered hands brush back dark locks to reveal the Time Lord's suspicions, but she doesn't have time to act because suddenly Yaz is  _very much fainting against her,_  eyes closed and limbs akin to jelly.  

"Graham, Ryan, could you open the doors for me, please?" She goes to fetch her key from her pocket when the doors nudge ajar of their own accord.  _Of course_ _they do._ She makes a silent promise to thank the ship later, but for now, she hooks an arm under Yasmin's knees and the other under her lower back, muttering a quiet goodbye to their new friends before she leads the way inside, carrying her friend-turned  _something more_  over the threshold in what tradition would label 'bridal-style'.  

"Doctor? What's happened to her?" Ryan voices his concerns once they're safely inside the ship, watching on somewhat helplessly with Graham at his side.  

"Her neuron-balancer must've malfunctioned. But she's out of there now, so she'll be fine. Just needs some rest. No need to worry!" Her tone is far too cheerful and staged, a hint of something similar to loss flashing across her eyes when she sets the other woman down on the floor of the console room. She shrugs her coat off, settling it over her unconscious form with a soft smile.  

"Are  _you_ okay, Doc?" Graham responds, watching on from a distance as the Doctor's brow creases. She's toying with the sleeves of her white top, as if reliving a particularly dreadful memory. She flinches when the attention switches back to her, plastering a thin smile on her lips.  

"Me? M'fine. Always fine, me. In fact, I invented the word." 

"'Course you did." 

"I did! Who do you think wrote the first draft of the modern English dictionary? Anyway! You two look exhausted; go get some sleep. I'll take care of Yaz." 

"Are you sure? Do you need anyth-" 

"Nope! All good! Go on, you two. Scoot!" She claps her hands together and all but ushers them up the stairs, pausing mid-way to extend a hand. There's a faux-exasperated frown on her lips. 

" _Ryan Sinclair,_  don't even think about it." 

Regretfully, he hands over the gun still held in his arms, offering up his usual cheeky grin by way of apologising. 

"Now, bed, boys. I'll see you in the morning." 

Once they've ambled out of sight, the Doctor hops back down the steps to the console. She falters in thought for a moment before settling on the cool metal at her side, reaching for her hand to check the steady pulse in her wrist. A sigh of relief bounces against the walls of her ship, and instead of returning it to its previous position, she holds her hand between both of her own. Yasmin's hands are smaller than hers, she notes, but they still fit perfectly.  

"Oh, Yaz. It had to be you, didn't it?" She murmurs to interrupt the heavy silence, save for her friend(?)'s calming breaths.  

"You'd think I'd be over the whole 'forgetting me' thing by now, wouldn't you? Maybe I'm not. Perhaps I just need a bit more time. And now look at me - talking to you while you're unconscious. That's not going to help a bit." She traces her fingertips over her pulse, once, twice, then reroutes to her palm, following the lines in quiet intrigue. Her hands are strong and capable; it's fitting, really. She's one of the strongest people she's known. Definitely in the top five.  

The faint aroma of earth and stardust assaults her senses when Yaz slowly rouses, her head still a touch fragile when she shifts to lift it. She glances up, blinking away the fog until she sees familiar twists of gold and crystal. She's in the console room, on the floor, and is that... - Yes, that's the Doctor's coat. She gives a faint noise of discomfort, only then spotting the mess of blonde hair at her side.  

"Yaz? You're awake. That's  _brilliant._ Try not to shift too much, that was all pretty hard on your brain." 

"What happened?" She flexes her fingers, glancing down when she catches hold of something.  _Oh_. The Doctor's holding her hand. That's new. Good new. definitely the good kind.  

"The neuron-balancer went a bit wibbly-wobbly. It's my fault, I should've checked. You - uh, it kind of - took some of your memories, I think." Her voice drops slightly at the end of the sentence, palm squeezed between two of her own when she smiles sadly down at her. "Please tell me you know who I am." 

She takes a silent breath, reaching out to pull the coat closer around herself. Just for  _warmth_ , of course.  

"Of  _course_  I remember you, Doctor. You're pretty unforgettable." 

"Don't leave me hanging like that, ever again. Okay?" She's teasing, clearly, but there's an underlying sense of desperation to her words which Yaz hadn't encountered before. She nods, quick and assertive, though the pain which spreads from between her brows as a result makes her wince. The Doctor notices right away, reaching out for her coat to fish for something in her pocket.  

She takes out a small, circular blue sweet, offering it out with an apologetic smile.  

"Here, open up. It'll help with the headache." The Doctor nods to her mouth with such intent Yasmin can feel heat spreading up her neck to her cheeks. She obediently parts her lips, grimacing when the sweet lands on her tongue and within less than a second, dissolves into her mouth.  

"That's definitely not regular paracetamol, is it?" 

"Nope. Much more efficient and much quicker to respond to pain." The blonde grins, back to the smug know-it-all Yaz has come to adore.   

The dark-haired woman sits up as the painkillers take hold, feeling back to normal in no time at all.   

"You alright, Doctor? Everything went okay today, right? Everything went to plan?" 

"Of course! Everything's good. Everything's fine, you just gave me a bit of a scare, that's all. it made me realize some things."  

It's only when she's on her feet that she remembers their hands are still joined, fingers interlinked and reluctant to unwind. The Doctor follows her gaze with a surprised quirk to her smile, warmth emanating from her.  

"I heard what you said, by the way, when you thought I was still asleep. I'm sorry, I just - I didn't want to interrupt you. What happened?  _How could anyone forget you_?" Her fingertips shift, moving to wander idly over her wrist, measuring the double-beat of her hearts. 

The Doctor falters, her breath catching at the sudden affection. They're so close, now; it's far too distracting.  

"It was a long time ago, now. I lost a friend. I had to forget her to stop me destroying time itself." 

"Some woman, huh?" She notices the envy to her words in an instant; she can read her emotions as clear as day. 

"Oh, Yaz. It wasn't like that. Not quite." She meets her gaze, pupils glossy but firmly settled. There's a fire burning behind them, and she's working hard not to stoke the flames. "Not like  _this_ , I mean." She nods towards their joined hands and the sudden proximity; honestly, neither knows who took that extra step closer.  

 They tend to do that; gravitate towards each other like a moth to a flame.  

"And what's  _this_ , exactly?" Yaz quips, tone light-hearted despite the heaviness in the air.  

Their toes are touching now.  

"Currently, I'm not quite sure. I'm pretty scared, actually. But I think I finally know what I  _want_ it to be, if you'd like me to show you?" 

"Of course. Take it away, Doctor." In all honesty, she's expecting her to break into interpretive dance, or hand her a custard cream with a quick 'goodnight' and a swish of her coattails.  

Hence, the reason behind the surprised hum which silences itself when, suddenly, the Doctor leans in to capture her lips. The kiss starts off slow, tentative, and wary, but as soon as the Doctor settles her hands on Yasmin's waist and teases her tongue along her bottom lip, the dark-haired woman is putty in her hands.

Clumsy maneuvering has Yasmin pressed back against the console in an all-too-overwhelming turn of events, hands straying to clutch and fist in the material of that  _adorable_ star-printed jumper.  

The Doctor tastes like custard creams and everything sweet, her delicious pressure leaving the human breathless and  _definitely_  squirming a touch against her.  

It's unfortunate, therefore, when Graham wonders along the corridor and into the console room  _just_ when the Doctor slips a cool palm beneath her jumper, ghosting against warm, smooth skin.  

The minute the Time Lord picks up on his footsteps closing in, she jumps back, lips swollen and cheeks bright pink. her eyes are slightly wild, hair askew. The same can be said for Yaz, who hastily draws her jumper back down.  

Graham clears his throat, his expression showing awkwardness but not shock - that's interesting, the Doctor muses internally.  

"Oh! Evenin', Graham! What can I help you with?" She's trying her hardest to keep up her act, but her top has been tugged from her tapered trousers and one of her braces has fallen to rest at her side. It's clear as day.  

"Sorry to interrupt, but... the TARDIS has moved my bedroom again. Don't worry about it now, though! I can probably find it eventually." He gives a smug smirk as he wonders back along the corridor, whistling cheerfully in his wake.   

The Doctor throws Yaz an utterly torn look, glancing between the corridor and the disheveled woman.  

"I should probably help, shouldn't I? I'll be back in five, I  _promise._ Stay right here." She eyes her once more, wanting so much just to reach out and  _touch_  again. She mustn't, though, so she jogs over to the corridor reluctantly.  

"Graham! Wait up! That door leads to the swi-"  

She's cut off by a gruff yell and a splash, then spluttering.  

Despite her genuine concern for Graham's safety, the Doctor  _absolutely beams_  when she hears Yasmin's laughter echoing through from the console room.  

She could get used to this. 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading!!! dedicated to one of those whom first inspired me to put pen to paper <3333


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